Pow-Wow at Thomas Square

By DELAINA THOMAS

Honolulu

 

I walk to the park
drummers sit in a circle under a white tent
they have drifted this far way on pacific waves
long feathers tucked behind their ears
they sweat in soft fringed hides
their faces lean and dark

I walk past a stall of frybread and smoked meat
to a table of pawn jewelry
a hunk of turquoise dappled with green
is set in a cuff of old silver engraved
with swastikas and stars
I wonder if it was gambled away 
I say to no one in particular
it would look nice on you I hear and look up
at the vendor older and handsome 
two bear claws at his collarbone

I don’t want to wear someone else’s heartache 
I have enough of my own I say 
he asks what tribe I am
my people are from an island I’ve never been to 
I say as I walk away

 

Delaina Thomas born and raised in Hawaiʻi, is a lifelong activist of Asian descent. Her writing has focused on two oppressed matriarchal cultures: the Hawaiian and the Uchinanchu. She researches and cultivates endangered endemic Hawaiian plants. Delaina is a certified teacher of Transcendental Meditation and has an MFA in creative writing from UC Irvine. Her work has appeared in Hawaiʻi Review, The Hudson Review, The Missouri Review, The Asian Pacific American Journal, Bamboo Ridge, and other publications.

[Purchase Issue 20 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Pow-Wow at Thomas Square

Related Posts

March 2026 Poetry Feature: Welcome Back Peter Filkins

PETER FILKINS
pissarro is dead cézanne too / swept away like willowed flotsam / that brute degas gone as well / chafing tides the sea of years // long ago battles fought discarded / ballast tossed from fame’s balloon / rising like heat and the unheard prices / feeding straw to the fires of need // for more garden cuttings variants

Two Poems by Heather Bourbeau

This forest is named for the first head of the National Forest Service, who warned of assuming natural resources were inexhaustible, who said without conservation we pay the price of misery, degradation, and failure, who asked if these resources were for the benefit of us all or for the use and profit of a few? He was also a leading eugenicist.

February 2026 Poetry Feature: Fatimah Asghar and Shane Moran

FATIMAH ASGHAR
i cursed the frog / that found its way into / my house. murderous, i laid / poison for the ants. i threw / my moon in the trash. / when he cheated, i wished / him a hall of mirrors. / doomed to endless versions / of him. i prayed they’d undo / each other. & they did. i took / from the earth without permission."